Reset
by evillovebunny500
Summary: Post Season 10 or spn, and slight per to during Harry potter Castiel makes a deal with a mysterious figure in return they get to live in a new world. [so much nicer then the summary please give it a shot]
1. Reincarnate

_**Chapter 1: Reincarnate**_

**May 12, 2014**

Castiel was numb.

Dean was dead.

He was dead and there was nothing him or Sam could do anymore.

It took him hours before he could even think to look for his friend. He found him, curled up on the floor and empty bottle of whiskey in his hand. Even though the lights were off he could still see, the only source of light leaking in from the hallway.

Picking up the giant he could see the tear tracks on his face, grief welled up again but Castiel just swallowed down the lump and carried Sam to his bedroom.

After he carried him through the hallways, he placed Sam gently down on the bed. He smoothed back his hair and began to work at making Sam comfortable.

He pulled off his boots and set them gently at the end of the bed. Cas then got a warm wash cloth and cleaned his face, once he was done he pulled his comforter over him.

Opening the door to leave, Castiel peered back one last time to see Sam sleeping restlessly and slowly shut the door softly behind himself.

Cas had to brace himself against the closed door his throat constricting.

He wished he was an angel. He wouldn't ever had to deal with these...these Feelings, of pure heartbreak, sadness and fear.

Pulling himself together and blinking away the tears threatening to fall, he pushed himself away from the door determined to find Dean.

It didn't take as long as it should have, he was right where Castiel had expected him to be.

Dean was lying motionless on his bed, the white sheets a stark contrast to his bloodied, tan skin.

Lips trembling Cas took a jerky step forward, his mind was telling him he didn't want to see what had happened to his dearest friend, but he had to.

He had to face reality.

Bringing a hand up to investigate the mysterious liquid and found himself crying.

So this is what it felt like to cry.

Sinking down into the abandoned chair by the bed he sat and let the tears fall. It wasn't a good idea, within seconds sobs were wracking his frame and no matter how hard he tried he couldn't stop.

After what felt like hours but was only a few minutes, he found he could finally pull himself together.

Pulling out the forgotten towel he had used to clean Sam's face he wiped Deans face gingerly, cleaning all of the blood off.

Once he was done Dean looked like he was doing nothing more than sleeping, with Castiel sitting by him, protecting him. Full of grief he let his head fall into his hands, and rested them on his knees

But he had failed. He hadn't been able to save him, if only…..

Castiel felt more then heard the stirring of the air. He lifted up his head but didn't turn to face the figure. Castiel didn't care, there was nothing more to kill in the room anyway.

He felt the being step closer to him and stop, then he said, voice full of remorse," I'm sorry for your loss Castiel."

Castiel couldn't understand what the man was sorry for, he hadn't killed Dean, and Metatron had.

So instead he said, "What do you want?"

The man paused for a moment then said, "I'm here to offer you a deal."

Cas sighed, his mind too clogged with grief to wonder how a demon had entered the bunker," I don't want to and can't make a demon deal"

Castiel didn't have a soul to sell, and his grace was dying, what could you want from a dying angel?

The man released a quiet chuckle and walked over to stand beside Castiel, "Not that kind of Deal."

Frustrated Castiel gritted his teeth finally looked up at the man only to find him to be wearing a hood, none of his features visible, he growled at the hood man," What kind of deal could you possible want."

Although Castiel couldn't see his face he got the distinct impression that the man was smirking.

Before Cas can even open his mouth to ask again the man had turned serious and said, "You're world's timeline is dying."

Castiel stared at him with sullen eyes, he replied, "Why should I care?"

The male paused startled and said," Wouldn't it be a shame to lose all of the work that Team Free Will did?"

Castiel continued to stare at him and the man sighed and said," I mean I just feel bad for taking all of you work away with nothing of it remaining…"

Heaving a sigh Cas forced himself to ask, "What is your deal?"

The man shifted nervously before settling down and answering him," I'm offering to reincarnate you and your family. Everyone important to you and the brothers would remember everything in their new life, Dead friends or family will reincarnate too but without their memories from this life."

Before Castiel could do more than open his mouth the man held up his left hand silencing him and continued on.

It's just its time."

Castiel pondered the idea for a moment and asked," what's the...'catch…?"

The hooded figure stopped and seem to process what he had said for a second and said," catch...? Hmmm well isn't being reincarnated in a new world with your memories big enough? hmm I suppose it would help me clear out all of the excess Angel power in this world, the new one isn't gonna have nearly as many…"

Cas stared at Dean and thought of the deal. Dean wouldn't remember anything, but maybe… maybe Castiel could protect him, keep history from repeating...he could protect them all. Finally coming to a conclusion Castiel turned to the man still muttering to himself and said," I will accept your offer."

Jerking his head up to glance at Castiel he stuttered a bit startled from being pulled out of his thoughts, "W-what? Oh great!"

The hooded figure held out his hand, which appeared to be the only part of him not covered, he had smooth, tan hands, and they looked strong.

With only a moment of hesitation he took the man's hand in his own.

With a grin a burst of light bursted from their connected hands and engulfed the room. The brightness hurt his mostly human eyes, brought tears to them even. He gritted his teeth and squeezed the man's hand harder.

The man's smile faded for a second only to be brought back into a bright smirk he said something but no sound emerged.

They weren't heard but… felt.

"You're so weak, barely an Angel at all. What has our dear brother done to you? You're in no shape to protect anyone much less yourself. How about I…"

The words faded from Cas's mind replaced by a burn it felt like….his grace.

But….But it was gone, He heard Dean Say it was but surely enough it was there burning into his vessel repelling the false grace.

However the grace felt… Too strong, more than he ever had before it almost felt like ...Almost like when he had purgatory swarming inside him. Almost but not quite.

He screamed it felt as though his very essence was being ripped apart and then. Nothing.

He felt as though he was falling. He couldn't open his eyes and he couldn't move.

He was just so tired….

He let himself fell into a deep sleep.


	2. Welcome Home

_**Ok I'm sorry I didn't get this out sooner, I've slowly been working on it but college is keeping me busy and tired, if you've ever read any of my other stories you know how slow I am at writing so don't expect frequent updates, like if you're lucky once or twice a month, I don't want to get anyone's hopes up, sorry if that ruins the story for you, I hope you enjoy this chapter, comments are nice uvvu**_

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_**Chapter 2: Welcome Home**_

**July 30, 1980**

Dean was confused beyond belief, one moment he was bleeding out, and desperately clinging to in his little brothers arms. The next he was floating in darkness.

Was this what it's like to float in limbo?

But it didn't make any sense to his foggy mind, he should be claiming his place in hell, not waiting in the void. It had always been instant finding himself in either heaven or hell, what was going on?

Maybe the demons were playing a game? If he opened his eyes he would surely wake up in Hell.

He slowly cracked opening his eyes expecting to see chains and fire, when instead he saw a white ceiling shrouded by darkness. It all seemed to …. Normal, too clam.

Confused he tried to move his head to look around but found that he just didn't have the energy or ability to move. He opened his mouth to call for Sam but all that came out was a quiet gurgle.

Maybe he wasn't in hell? Or at least not in one he'd ever seen before, and he had seen a lot of different versions of hell.

He would think he was in heaven, but with Kevin being stuck on earth there was no way it was possible. It all seemed too abnormal and unfocused for hell though. In hell he could feel every single thing, nothing numbed him, but here all he felt was dizzy and a lack of concentration.

Maybe Sam had found a way to save him after all? perhaps he had just been in a coma? But the familiar sound of beeping was absent and the ceiling didn't look like any hospital he'd ever been in.

Sam must had found some sort of faith healer, but then why couldn't he move or call out, frustrated he let out another cry for Sam but nothing but gurgles emerged yet again.

Perhaps the faith healer hadn't been able to fix him completely? Or maybe he really was just a spirit trapped in limbo…. no that wasn't right, he had been a spirit before and it felt nothing like this.

Before he could run around in circles again he found a cloud of inky black smoke hovering just above him. It swirled around angrily looking like a hive of angry hornets buzzing around waiting for an order to attack.

He felt relieved, he was in hell he could ascend to his rightful spot, he would…

Before he could even allow the relief to sink in the horde was descending on him, just before they reached him he squeezed his eyes shut and screamed.

Then …. nothing happened.

He peeled one of his eyes open they were swimming to the edge of his vision almost … as if they were ignoring him.

Before he could even try to taunt them a bright light emanating from the center of the room, causing him to scrunch his eyes closed, and to let out a small noise of pain.

Then just a moment later he heard it.

A woman was making shushing sounds, and they were coming closer to him. He tried again to move but found he couldn't move more the inch at a time, and after squirming for the few precious moments he could he felt dead tired.

He was beyond confused and he was trapped in a place that he couldn't recognize or place.

A humming sound brought him back to focus however when set sights on the creature above him he stopped and stared.

What kind of sick fucking joke was this?

The women staring down at him was dressed as none other than his mother, only slightly older than when he was sent back in time the first time.

He scream every insult he could at the demon even though he knew nothing legible would come out. His face must be red from the screaming because the monster leaning over him looked concerned, the only thing that made him stop was the small twinge of fear on her face.

It looked exactly like his mother, in every aspect. The imitation wrapped her arms around him and lifted him up and it felt….. Safe.

She was shushing him, saying in a warm voice, "Its ok Dean shhh, shhhh…." He could do nothing but stare up ah her slightly smiling face.

With the silence extending she seemed to think he'd calmed down enough, so with as much gentleness as she could she laid him down into his bed…? The more he concentrated the more he noticed….. It looked more like a cage, she was putting him in a cage? But the bars looked to be made of polished wood. The giant interrupted his thought by placing a feathery light kiss on his forehead and whispered, "Angels are watching over you."

He stared at her with wide eyes and watched as she left the room flipping the light off, shooting him one last soft smile and she left the room as if she had never been there to begin with.

Because of his new position in the prison he was able to finally investigate the right side of his cage. Before he could investigate very far he caught sight of a wardrobe. It was set up a few inches lower than his cage and it was decorated with beautiful old fashioned trim, and it was a part of a much larger vanity, but what really caught his attention was the mirror, well it was more of what he could see in it.

Specifically his reflection.

He was….a baby?

Or at least that was what the mirror showed him. The infant staring back at him couldn't be older than six months probably younger since he could barely move, I mean babies could crawl by six months right? At least that's what he read somewhere… he pulled his thoughts away from his movement to the babies' appearance in the mirror.

The infant had bright forest green eyes and dirty blonde hair slightly spattered on his head, barely visible against its light, pale, skin.

He simply allowed the pieces to fall together in his mind, He was killed by an angel, Metatron, He woke up in a crib and he was apparently a baby.

But why?

Of any sort of torture, of pain he deserved, why choose to make him an infant?

His mind was running in circles he didn't understand any of it, if he was in hell why wasn't he suffering, if he was truly alive why he was he a baby, and where were Sam and Castiel?

With all of the metal energy, and pervious physical energy he had expelled he felt bone tired, before he could even make a single connection his eyelids were drooping closed, sending him into a fitful slumber.

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Dean snapped his eyes open instantly as he felt large hands lifting him up. It was his 'mother', she had her right hand underneath his head supporting his neck and her left arm was curled around his small body hugging him tightly to her chest.

She had a warm smile and flashed her bright, white teeth at him when all he did was stare at her.

She held him closely and noiselessly shuffling from the nursery they were standing in. He stared intently at the surroundings and found he recognized the hallway and then the kitchen he found himself in. It was his old house, the one that had burnt down because of yellow eyes. If he wasn't so tightly bundled up to his mother's chest he would have shuddered.

While he was distracted it seems his mom had made up a bottle of warm formula for him. He faintly remembered feeding it to Sam when he was an infant. He distinctly remember taking a sip of it just to know what Sammy was being forced to eat. It had been tasteless and bland.

With the taste vaguely in his mind he clamped his mouth shut when she brought the plastic bottle to his lips. She cooed at him, but the longer he resisted the more concerned she looked.

She took the bottle away from his mouth and glanced at the bottle with her brows furrowed. She splashed a bit of the formula onto her palm. She then shook her head and then put down the bottle all together.

"Are you feeling ok Dean?" she looked at him with little expectations for an answer and then muttered to herself," Maybe your diapers full? Or maybe…are you feeling ok?"

She strode into the living room, from the angle he was being held at he couldn't see much besides the white smooth ceiling and the top of the walls, he found that he had more energy to move then he did last night. He peeked over her arm to see where she was headed, but didn't catch more then the top of a sofa.

Just as he started to get bored his mother set him down on a … changing table.

The woman pulled out a disposable diaper and a disposable rag.

A few minutes later his butt was sparkle clean and clad in a new diapers and he was thoroughly humiliated.

She smiled down at him and said, "Ready to eat now that you're all clean?" she scooped him off of the offensive table and cradled him in her arms as she shuffled back into the kitchen.

She then proceeded to dump out the older bottle of formula and put the dirtied container in the fridge. Then she made a new batch of synthetic milk. She instead this time sat down at the kitchen table and held him in her lap as she reached for the bottle.

She looked so desperate and Dean actually felt guilty for refusing to eat earlier, she was trying so hard….

Dean gave in and drank the foul liquid she offered him. She sighed in relief and began humming lightly, rocking him back and forth.

He found his eyes were dragging closed and he forgot how easily babies got tired. It had just been so long since he had taken care of little Sammy.

He drifted off before he was even placed back into his crib.

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He couldn't pull an air into his lungs, he was trapped in an inked darkness with hooks pulling his flesh off of his bones. The hook were pulled so taunt that every single breath he tried to take forced the hooks to peel a little more skin off of him starting another stream of fresh blood gushing from the new wounds.

All he could hear were screams, all he could smell was rotting flesh and burning bodies. All he could see was his torturer grinning at him offering him a chance at freedom, mocking him. He had been there for so long, the pain was too much all he had to say was yes, he was a monster he already had excepted that maybe…. Maybe it was time to act like one….

Dean woke up heaving, a scream caught in his throat. It took him a few moments to realize he was being held and his mother was shushing him, rocking him back and front desperately.

Day after day he woke up from horrid nightmares but he didn't wake up to being tortured. Somehow, someway, he was reborn, and he had his mother back.

Dean was afraid to hope.


	3. Finding an angel

_**Here ya go, I hope you guys like it**_

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_**Chapter 3: Mary**_

**January 12, 1982**

Mary new there was something wrong with her son. It seemed after he turned six months old his health had taken a turn for the worst.

He couldn't sleep without being plagued by nightmares. If he was ever able to finally drift asleep, minutes later he would wake up scream and heaving, like he had just run a marathon, but he was only a baby.

She took him to the doctors but they said that he would be fine, he would outgrow it, and Mary believed them, she **had** too.

With John away at war and no family to lean on Mary was all alone and she didn't know what to do.

He was almost a two and a half years old and he was barely making any progress. Every day she watched Dean like a hawk tracking his progress, he crawled around occasionally but most she found him falling asleep and bolting upright a moment later.

She was doing here best to teach him to walk and he was trying so hard, but it obviously took a toll on him. He just couldn't seem to find the energy to keep it up for more than a few minutes.

Thankfully, teaching him to talk seemed much easier for him. He would learn words almost as soon as they left her mouth, she began to think he was holding back.

Sometimes she found Dean whispering to himself, words completely legible, well as legible a one year old could be. But the moment he would catch sight of her he would clamp his mouth shut and start mumbling, illegible.

She found herself spending most of her time talking to her son, trying to get him to speak to her more.

She had a sort of plan.

It seemed ridiculous when she thought about it but she saw no other way. By getting him to talk more maybe she could figure out what his nightmares were about, and if she found out enough perhaps she would be able to find where the nightmares were stemming from.

It was only thing left she could try.

She had moved him into her room, even resorting to having him sleep on his father's side of the bed and beside her, but nothing worked.

She needed to think of a way to make her plan work.

It was a sunny Tuesday morning when she decided on taking Dean out of the house.

She decided that maybe they would go garage sale hunting, she thought maybe they could find a toy that would bring him comfort.

After all she still had a little toy angel doll. It wasn't impressive, it wasn't very bendable, not a great toy for a child, but the serine face on the toy always had made her feel calm when things were bad.

Looking through the baby clothes that garage sale had, they looked barely used, and as she was inspecting them she heard a quiet gasp from behind her.

Turning around she found Dean hugging a little cloth toy. She crouched down next to him and she asked gently, "What do you have there? Can I see?"

He looked a little hesitant but then he held out the toy for her to inspect. It was a little cloth angel, It had black cloth hair and a white yarn face with little beads for eyes. It had a brown coat-dress thing that covered its entire body. The arms were stringy and it didn't have any legs but she thought it was cute.

"Do you want me to get her for you baby?" She cooed softly handing it back to her.

He looked a little offended and said in a very grumpy tone, "He's a boy mama."

She giggled and reassured him, "Of course, of course, he's a handsome little angel."

His face said he didn't trust her to follow his commands but she grinned and asked, "What's _his _name going to be then? You know every great toy needs a name."

He mumbled something she couldn't understand and she put her hand to her ear, "What did you say?"

He looked a little grumpy and said, "His names Cas"

She beamed at her son and exclaimed cheerfully, "That's a great name baby~!"

He pouted a little longer but didn't keep it up for more than a few seconds. They left the garage sale smiling with the small angel named Cas clutched desperately in Dean's small hands.

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Mary considered the day a _huge_ success! Dean had interacted with her joyfully. He had been smiling and talking, she had even managed to get him to walk for most of the day. She was so proud and she felt as if they were finally gonna make progress.

That night after she had fed and bathed him they snuggled up in her bed, Dean had the toy angel wrapped tightly in his little hands. He drifted off mere seconds after laying next to her, she smiled down at him and petted his hair lightly. She leaned in and brushed her lips over his temple and picked up one of her favorite novels.

She drifted off peacefully as her book came to an end.

She hadn't even noticed that Dean hadn't woken up once.


End file.
